


Wherein could this flea guilty be

by mahoni



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: 1000-5000 Words, Aliens Made Them Do It, F/M, Humor, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-25
Updated: 2008-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahoni/pseuds/mahoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to save SGA-1 from corporal punishment off-world, Sam claims to be married to Sheppard, Rodney and Ronon. But then she has to prove it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wherein could this flea guilty be

"I am so sorry," Sam whispered. "This is -- this is just a nightmare."

Sheppard was trying to act nonchalant, but his arms were crossed so tightly across his chest he was practically hugging himself, and he was staring resolutely over her head with a hunted look in his eyes.

"No," he said. At least he sounded calm. "No, we both knew this was a really bad idea, but it was also the only thing we could do. Other than calling in a squad of Marines and telling them to start shooting."

Sam could tell he was thinking they should possibly have considered that option a bit more openly. She glanced at the three elderly Shigurd women seated on the bench on the other side of the room and forced a smile. They were all keeping themselves occupied -- one was sewing, another was whittling something out of a piece of wood, and the other was writing something. The way she kept glancing up at them as she wrote made it seem disturbingly like she was taking notes.

"Yeah, but I'm your CO, I'm supposed to figure out ways to avoid this sort of thing," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth.

"And I'm your second in command, I'm not supposed to end up getting my whole team arrested off-world for public indecency and put you in this situation to begin with."

Sheppard was determined to let her off the hook, which she appreciated, but honestly. After all the times things like this had happened to SG-1? She really should have been able to get them out of it before it got this far.

A low, wet rattle from the other side of the room reminded them of their audience. They both flinched and looked at the little old ladies. The one doing the writing cleared her throat again and tilted her head toward the pile of cushions and blankets beside Sam and Sheppard and raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

Sheppard wilted. He buried his face in his hands for a quick, miserable moment, and then dropped them and stared at his feet.

"Well, I guess...we should..." Sam winced and trailed off.

She lowered herself delicately to the cushions; Sheppard sighed deeply and then threw himself down beside her and started working on his boot laces, muttering darkly to himself.

Sam mentally flailed, trying to think of something to say to make this easier. "Um, if you're worried about backlash from the SGC, seriously, it's not going to be a problem for you. We could probably gloss over this part of the negotiation in the report. And even if we went into the usual detail, I'm pretty sure this would come back to me, not you. Chain of command and all that.

"I mean..." she said after a pause. "Given how many times Jack, Daniel, Teal'c and I have married each other accidentally on various planets, I would be surprised if anyone at the SGC even blinked at this. Well. I suppose the circumstances are a little different. Okay, actually, not that much different. But still. The point stands."

"I was actually worried more about Rodney than the SGC. Did you see the look he --" Sheppard had one boot off, but he suddenly froze. He glanced up at her, wide-eyed from beneath his eyelashes. His deeply traumatized expression now had a thread of interest woven through it.

"Wait." He went back to working off his other boot, slowly. "Did you say... Are you telling me you've done this..._this_...before?"

Sam flushed. "Well. Like I said, the circumstances were...it was slightly...actually, you know what? That's really none of your business."

The horrible, phlegmy sound interrupted whatever Sheppard was about to say.

"Is this customary for your people as well?" The old woman doing the writing had set her things aside and had her arms folded. "All of this talking?"

Sam glared at the woman. "Yes, all of this talking is customary. And like I said earlier, _privacy_ is also customary. Any chance you guys would change your minds and respect that?"

All three women looked at them with narrowed eyes. The one whittling pointed with her knife. "We gave you a blanket."

Sam shared a dour look with Sheppard, who muttered, "Yeah, thanks a lot."

The thing was, customs among the different human populations in the Pegasus Galaxy were actually a lot more homogenized than in the Milky Way. Pegasus cultures hadn't been influenced by the whims of several dozen very different and frequently crazy 'gods.' They also had depended on maintaining good relationships with each other, given that anybody could find themselves suddenly without a home, sometimes without family or friends, and would need to be able to integrate into another community in order to survive. So differences in customs were generally not that significant.

But there were occasionally communities that had managed to fall off the grid somewhere along the way, and it seemed like they always turned out to have some fatally odd rule or tradition that a visiting SGA team inevitably, unwittingly broke.

For example, the Shigurd believed that men were not to be allowed out without their wives, because they might Get Into Trouble. Sheppard and his team had not known this, so when someone referred to Teyla as their wife, they had set the record straight.

"They seem to expect the four of us to strip off our clothes and have an orgy in the street at any second," Sheppard had said over the radio. "Or possibly rape and pillage their daughters. Or sons. We were looking at twenty lashes each in the marketplace and a night in the stocks, so I told them that me, Rodney and Ronon were in fact married, but our wife trusted us to not act inappropriately in public as long as we had Teyla along to be our chaperone."

"But they don't believe you," Sam had said.

"Nope. They want the wife to come here and prove it."

Sam had sighed. "Okay. Tell them I'll be there shortly."

Sheppard had paused on the line. He'd finally said,

"Well...the thing is...they're not being real clear on what kind of proof they're looking for."

At which point she'd had a really bad feeling about the situation. But she couldn't exactly leave them there to be beaten, so, here she was.

And it was pretty much as bad as she'd thought it would be. At this point she was just glad she was only required to 'prove it' with _one_ of her supposed husbands.

Sheppard was fiddling with a tassel on the blanket. They'd both managed to get their boots off, but that was it so far. Sam stifled another sigh.

"I think we'd better just get this over with."

Sheppard dropped the tassel and folded his hands in his lap. Now he was examining a section of air somewhere just in front of her left ear. "Okay. So. How do you want to...er."

Something fairly similar really had happened to her and Jack once. All that had been required of them was a kiss, but Sam remembered how incredibly mortified she'd been at that stage of their working relationship, given their respective stations, and how really, really glad she was when Jack kissed her so that she didn't have to kiss _him_. Not a huge distinction, there, but an important one.

So she took a breath and blew it out, spared half a second to wish she'd thought to brush her teeth before coming here, and leaned forward and kissed Sheppard.

She started small -- just touched her lips to his, parted them just enough to catch his lip between hers and then pulled back a little. He sat frozen, his hands still clutched in his lap. He stared at her mouth.

"Just..." she said as calmly as possible. "Try to remember to breathe."

She kissed him again. He took a breath, and it made his mouth soften, gave her sudden access to the velvety underside of his lips.

He was letting her lead, and since she was trying to put off the inevitable, she let the kiss go on. The fact that he had a really wonderful mouth helped. Probably helped too much. At some point he started to meet her halfway, opening for her, exploring back when she gave him the chance.

At some point she realized she had one hand fisted in the front of his shirt and the other hand cupping the back of his head, fingers threaded through his hair, holding him close.

She gasped and let go, sitting back.

He gasped too, and his hand came up, reaching, and his eyes blinked open.

"I'm sorry," she said, because, oh, this was wrong. So, so wrong.

"No," he said. "No. Don't be sorry. That was...good. Really...really good."

She shook her head. She was flushed and breathless, and trying hard not to think about the taste of him lingering on her mouth, and _wow_ was this wrong. "No, I meant --"

_Really good?_ she thought abruptly. _...really?_

He started. "Oh. Oh, you mean, sorry, because..."

They stared at each other. He was just as flushed as she was, which made her feel worse. Then he said,

"If it helps, I, uh, consent. To this. Totally uncoerced." He hesitated. "Well, uncoerced by you."

That made her feel worse, too. Partly because it made her wish she'd had a chance to coerce him a little more.

Which was _wrong_.

"Are you sure?" she said.

"Absolutely," he said, and then looked a little embarrassed at how quickly he'd answered the question.

Which made her feel better.

And he did let her coerce him a bit more after all. She could see the hunger behind his eyes, sense it in the way he met her kiss, but he still held back. Between the whole CO thing and their audience, she completely understood the hesitation. She drifted her fingertips down his cheek.

"Okay?" she said, just in case she actually didn't understand at all.

He nodded, so she traced the same line with her mouth. She flattened her palms against his chest, pressing lightly.

"Still okay?" she whispered against his cheek.

"Yeah," he said in a breath.

So she pressed him down, onto his back on the cushions. Her hand slid down to his waist as she leaned over him, propping herself on her elbow.

"Do you want me to keep checking? In case I do something you don't like?"

He looked up at her, and heat coiled through her.

"I don't think you could do something I won't like." He ghosted his hand up along her arm; he found one of the locks of her hair that would never stay tied back and looped it around his finger. "Just show me what you want."

And then she realized that he was trying to be considerate of her, thinking of how awkward it was for _her_. She couldn't help it: she glanced up, and sure enough the Shigurd women were watching.

The tug on her hair band, the fall of her hair over her neck as it came loose, drew her gaze back to John. He ran his fingers through her hair and shook his head briefly. The look in his eyes said _this really doesn't have to be horrible_, and to prove it he leaned up for another kiss. A few breathless moments later she was starting to believe.

She had wondered a little, when she first met him, and even after knowing him a little while -- wondered, because he always looked rumpled, always looked like his uniform didn't quite fit him right; wondered because he was so slender and because he leaned and slouched and draped himself like a ragdoll in chairs.

But it turned out that was all pretty much a lie. His body was wiry and hard; slender, but all muscle. They'd talked earlier about trying to keep as many clothes on as possible, given the lack of privacy, but she forgot about that, because his shirt was in the way. It was keeping her from touching where she wanted, and seeing what she wanted, so she pushed it up, tugged it off, and he let her.

A couple fewer layers of clothing later, and she remembered why they'd agreed to stay mostly dressed. She glanced up again, horrified, but --

"They're gone," she said, startled.

He blinked. His breathing was a little ragged; his skin flushed. "Oh. Does that mean we should..."

_Stop,_ he didn't say. He shifted against her, and her own breath caught in her throat.

_Yes, we really should,_ she told herself. _ Because..._

After that last desperate shift Sheppard didn't moved again. She could feel the careful tension of his body, the way he trembled trying to hold still. His hands lingered, though, cupping her waist, hot through the cotton of her shirt; she turned her face away from him so that she wouldn't have to be tempted by his mouth or see her own desire mirrored in his eyes, but that backfired because there was still the curve of his neck and the musky scent of him. And the warmth and hardness against her thigh...

A couple of things occurred to her at that point. That the Shigurd women might still be watching, that their leaving could be a test, that stopping now would be a bad, bad idea and that it was her duty to see this through. That the fact that she was making excuses didn't mean they might not be true.

As she considered how she would explain her logic to him she nuzzled her cheek against his without thinking, and her hands drifted down across his stomach to where she had got the top buttons of his pants unfastened. He gave a little gasp and gripped her tighter; then he pulled her onto him and found her mouth before she could even start to form words.

As soon as she had to come up for air, she managed, "They could still be watching."

He nodded from where he was kissing his way down her neck. "Yes."

"And --" her breath caught as his mouth found the soft skin of her chest and his hand moved up to meet it. "And we -- oh -- we are both -- this doesn't have to -- when we get home --"

His other hand had slipped between her legs and was gently teasing her through the fabric of her pants. She shuddered and bit her lip.

"It won't," he said, finishing what she had been trying to say. Then he wrapped his arms around her and lifted up, rolling them until she was stretched out beneath him. She went back to working the buttons of his pants as he fumbled for the blanket and pulled it over them.

"It won't," he said again, and that was the last time either of them said anything for a while.

*

After all of that, the Shigurd still didn't quite believe them. The three old women were standing just outside the tent when they came out, dressed but still a little flushed and rumpled. The women glared accusingly at them, but Sam stopped in front of the note-taker and said,

"You have the proof you asked for. We'll be leaving now."

She hooked a finger in Sheppard's shirt and tugged him along with her as she headed toward the tent across the way where the others were being held. He opened his eyes wide and tried to look obedient as he followed. She tried not to laugh.

The walk back to the Stargate was a little awkward. At first they weren't able to talk about what had happened because the Shigurd sent a small contingent of armed and muscular women to escort them back to the 'gate. Teyla kept shooting them intrigued glances, Ronon was looking amused and unnervingly thoughtful, and Rodney glared at them, so red-faced that Sam was a little concerned for him. He looked like an aneurysm or two were imminent.

The Shigurd escort stopped at the tree line a few hundred feet from the 'gate and watched them go. When they got to the DHD, Sheppard started hitting symbols, and Rodney couldn't stand it anymore.

"What did -- you both look -- look at you!" He waved his hands angrily at them and hissed, "What depraved, debauched, deviant sexual acts did you perform for them, hm?"

Sheppard paused with his hand over a symbol and shot Rodney a look at the same time Sam clapped a hand to her forehead wearily.

"Rodney," she said. She tried to put a note of warning into her voice, but she thought she sounded a little desperate instead, and she cringed.

Rodney's face crumpled a little.

"Oh come on," he said. "I've had a crush on her --" He couldn't look her in the eye so he just pointed accusingly at her. "On, on you -- for -- and -- come _on_. Can't you guys at least describe it?"

"Rodney!" Sam said.

Ronon cleared his throat loudly and kept determinedly staring down the Shigurd warriors from a distance, and Sam was pretty sure Teyla sniggered.

Sheppard just went back to pressing DHD symbols.

"Calm down, McKay," he said; Sam liked the irritated, slightly offended edge he managed to put on the words. "Those old ladies were watching us so we...rolled around under a blanket for a while. And made noises and stuff."

Rodney looked back and forth between them. "Are you saying you faked it?"

The Stargate kawooshed and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. She put through her IDC and confirmed with Chuck over the comm, half-listening to the conversation behind her.

"She's my CO, Rodney," Sheppard was saying. "Doing anything more than that with her would be frowned upon."

"...really?"

"Really."

So far Sheppard hadn't actually said anything that was technically untrue. Sam was impressed.

"McKay," she said sharply. He flushed and looked a little embarrassed. "Ronon, Teyla. Colonel." She grinned at him and he smirked back. "Are we ready?"

Rodney had caught the exchange and he dragged his feet as everyone started to move toward the 'gate.

"Oh no no no. What the hell was that? I saw that look!"

Sheppard shook his head and grabbed Rodney's arm. "That was the 'McKay is being a moron, let's all point and laugh' look." He gave Rodney a shove through the 'gate and followed.

*

They debriefed after everyone had a chance to get something to eat and wash the alien dust off of themselves. Alien dust and other things, in a couple of cases.

By unspoken agreement Sam and Sheppard stuck with the lie-by-omission strategy he'd started. Nobody looked entirely convinced, but Sam had read a good percentage of Atlantis' mission reports and she was pretty sure nobody around here would have much more to say about the truth than anyone back at the SGC would.

Well. Rodney no doubt had plenty he wanted to say, but Sam stared him down every time he opened his mouth, and the meeting went fairly smoothly.

After the debrief Sam and Sheppard lingered in their chairs in the meeting room until the others cleared out. Rodney attempted to stay too, but Teyla got him out of the room with a combination of gentle verbal coaxing and a firm grip on his collar.

When they were gone, she and Sheppard looked at each other for a long moment. Finally Sheppard leaned forward and propped his chin on his hand.

"Did you picture me naked during the meeting?" he said.

Sam burst out with a startled laugh and managed not to blush from head to toe. Because actually, she had. Only a couple of times though. She wasn't a robot, for god's sake, and he had looked very good naked.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Did you?"

"Picture you naked?" he said. He narrowed his eyes, his gaze wry. "Would I be in more trouble if I said yes or if I said no?"

She grinned and shuffled her papers into a mostly neat pile and stood. He followed her to his feet in that graceless way of his that would probably never not be achingly sexy ever again, and she forced herself to be serious.

"So are we okay?"

His own expression turned serious, too. "I'm okay. Are you okay?"

She studied him for a moment. He seemed to be honestly okay with it, but if she'd learned anything about John Sheppard in her time on Atlantis she'd learned that he was very good at pretending to be okay with all kinds of things when he thought he needed to be.

"Yeah, I'm okay." She stopped in front of him and met his eyes. "But if this gets weird, if you ever feel uncomfortable or anything, please, say something. To me, to the base counselor, to someone at the SGC. Like I said, this won't come down on you. Okay?"

He leaned hip-shot against the table and folded his arms. She was fairly sure he was trying not to roll his eyes.

"Yes, okay."

She shook her head and waved him to the exit. They parted at the door; she had a report to fudge and paperwork galore to file. He gave her a nod and headed out of the control room. She pointed herself in the direction of her office and didn't watch him go.

She hoped they would be okay. She liked it here, and she liked Colonel Sheppard, and she wanted to stay as long as she could and remain friends. But at this point all she could do was wait and see how things turned out.

And try not to keep remembering how he'd felt, how he'd touched her. How he smelled and tasted.

She shook herself. _Oh, for crying out loud, Sam. Get a grip._

But she must have been grinning, because Chuck smiled back at her when he caught her eye and said, "Something funny, ma'am?"

She stifled the urge to fan herself with her file folder.

"No, no, nothing funny, but I really need to --" she said, and escaped into her office.

*

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the poem "[The Flea](http://www.luminarium.org/sevenlit/donne/flea.php)" by John Donne. Saucy Jacobean poetry FTW!


End file.
